It Could Have Happened
by Vixin2
Summary: It took a little longer then it should have for Raymond to reach Descole and Elaine after they were caught by Targent. An alternate case of what could have happened at the end of Miracle Mask. Spoilers for Azran Legacy. Features my OC Elaine from my story 'Stubborn Mind'. Rated T just in case. I own nothing but my OC. Reviews are welcomed :)


**Considering how big the Infinite Vault of Akbadain was, how we didn't even see how Descole and Raymond got on top of it to begin with (as well as taking Raymond's possible age into consideration), it should have (or at least could have) taken Raymond longer to rescue Descole from Targent at the end of Miracle Mask. Descole could still be rescued, but not with a little 'pain' that could be a little cringe worthy for some.**

**Spoilers for Azran Legacy as well as a slight AU, and features my OC Elaine Hawthorne from my story, 'Stubborn Mind'. Hope you enjoy :)**

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Elaine wasn't certain how things had managed to get from bad to worse. Or could it be from worse to just plain difficult? It was hard to pinpoint where such a… well, point could have occurred for who overall, and been the most… tedious. For Professor Layton, his friends and the Ledores, it would have likely been around the revealing of Randall (assuming that had already occurred by now) before said man tried to bury all of Monte d'Or in sand. For Elaine, it was when Bloom revealed he knew she was posing (reluctantly) as her cousin, Madeline, and at gun point forced her to meet the leader of Targent before she got hit in the head (with a gun maybe?) and woke up halfway through a journey to the Infinite Vault of Akbadain where Descole had quickly been taken down by that old guy.

Elaine of course tried to break out of the damsel in distress role she seemed trapped in lately, and briefly it had worked. Until she got pulled down next to her original kidnapper. How that happened, she wasn't too sure. While she had been giving as many of her kick boxing skilled kicks as she could, it had mostly been instinct and little of it had actually thought. It had ended up in a bit of a blur in Elaine's mind.

So, she and Descole were trapped to state the obvious. Held down by soldiers with their only hope being Raymond. Of course, he had been at the top of the previously mentioned vault with Descole (before said man jumped down), and given the size of the thing, way of getting down (Elaine doubted Raymond's age would permit him from jumping at such a height unless he was incredibly fit) and the soldiers he would likely have to avoid, she and Descole were sitting ducks.

"Now, let's see if you're who I think you are." Elaine tensed as Bronev reached for Descole's mask. Descole himself certainly made it clear he didn't want that, as he thrashed in the soldiers hold and tried moving away from Bronev's hand. If only Raymond had been closer to ground. Then perhaps there could have been a miracle of sorts. But that wasn't the case. Life doesn't work like that.

The moment the mask came off (slowly, likely purposely done by Bronev, for some kind of torment), Descole had tried to hide his face by keeping it to the ground, though Elaine could still see a scowl from what she could see of his mouth. Bronev however grabbed the back of his hair and tugged at it sharply to force him to look up.

Elaine's heart stopped momentarily. She had seen that face before. The face of an article's author she had read back at work in the London Museum. The man she had known for so long as Jean Descole was actually Professor Desmond Sycamore. Thinking back to when she read that archaeology article, she had sensed familiarity while looking at his picture, but this certainly wasn't what she had in mind.

It was a bit odd seeing him without those red rimmed glass, and it was hard to imagine that the man next to her, looking so furious his red eyes may as well have been the gates of hell and whom had kidnapped her twice, was a highly popular archaeologist last time she had checked.

"Good to see you again, son."

Bronev's words caused a lump in Elaine's throat. She knew Desco… Desmond had said he was estranged from his father, but she didn't think it was anything like this!

"You have no right to call me that!" Desmond snapped. "You lost any right to that years ago!"

"Right. When I took my granddaughter." Bronev commented, not helping Desmond's temper.

"Don't even call Johanna that!"

"You're the one who doesn't have a right to call her a daughter. Not making an effort to find her and all."

"It's hard to do so when you're not even certain as to where she is," Desmond remarked bitterly. "Now where is she?!"

"Safe, son. She's safe." Bronev patted the top of Desmond's head, but he jerked away from the hand.

"I told you, NOT, to call me that."

"Now, no need to be so harsh."

"Just let us go and leave!" demanded Desmond, narrowing his eyes. "I found these ruins, and you have no right to take them from me!"

"Actually, I think you'll find we have every right to do so." Hearing words like Desmond's must have been common for Bronev to hear since he sounded so casual about it all as stood up from the kneeling position he had been in. "There's still a place for you in Targent, Hershel." Elaine furrowed her brows briefly before she figured that 'Hershel' must have been Desmond's original name.

"Hershel Bronev. Is. Dead!" the red eyed archaeologist sneered. "He died the moment you decided to join the group that broke apart our family!" Pausing, his eyes narrowed thinly. "In a way, it's almost a good thing mother is dead. She doesn't have to see the monster you've become. If Johanna hadn't bared a resemblance to her, I have no doubt you would have killed her like-!"

Bronev's foot shot into Desmond's stomach, causing him to gasp sharply before clenching his teeth. Trying not to show it hurt. Elaine cringed, having almost felt that kick herself. She caught Demond's eyes and he briefly mouthed something Elaine's just managed to understand, though almost barely.

'Stay, calm.'

Elaine pursed her lips into a thin line. She couldn't give any sort of acknowledgement without feeling as though she was agreeing to something. She didn't want that. If she had to, she'd do what she could given their predicament.

"Do NOT, speak like that to me," Bronev spoke coldly. "I may be your father, but you know very well I won't accept any of your back talk."

"Too bad my 'father' is dead to me." This was met by another sharp kick, this time to his ribs. Desmond hissed, suppressing any louder noise of pain.

"Let's try this again to where we were before you made us stray away, 'Desmond'." There was a mocking tone as Bronev said his name. "There's still a place for you in Targent. You can bring your associate," he jerked his head lightly towards Elaine. "With you even. You can see Johanna again, and then we'll talk to your brother-."

"Stay away from him!" Desmond found his fire again, snarling lightly despite the light pain he must have still been feeling. Elaine inwardly groaned at this new fact. How much many more tv drama show worthy plot twist-like information was there? "Stay away from him, give me back my daughter and let us go!"

"I thought it was already clear that you were in no position to be making demands." Bronev commented dryly. He looked to Elaine briefly and she only returned him a scowl. "… How much does your associate mean to you." Elaine frowned, the question causing her to feel a slight discomfort. Desmond seemed to have been in a similar state of mind since he frowned as well, but that changed when he gave Bronev a hard look.

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Your wife, Lucy wasn't it? Died a good few years ago, didn't she?" Bronev questioned, casually stepping back over Elaine, a soldier or two moving to give him room as he knelt down. "I can understand that feeling of loneliness. You must have been quite pleased when you found yourself a pretty little chit who could read Azran glyphs, am I right?"

"I don't think I like what you're implying," Desmond spoke, his breathing barely kept even.

"Neither do I," Elaine muttered.

"Well from your reaction, I'm taking it that she's not too important then?" Elaine felt a tight grip on her hair, tighter and rougher then what she had been used to from Desmond. He pulled her head up just about half a foot off the ground. "Then I suppose something like this wouldn't be too concerning."

Elaine felt something cold and thin with small jagged edges against her neck, and her breath hitched as she quickly realised what it was. She had already thought there was something wrong with this guy the moment he first kicked Desmond in front of her, but now she felt he was some sort of closet sadist. Desmond's face briefly broke into concern before returning to his hard look.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I was thinking of giving her a little cut, around here." The knife pressed a little harder about an inch and a half below her jaw. "I think it would suit her, don't you think?"

"Leave her alone, she's got nothing to do with this."

"Actually, no." Bronev moved the knife, still against her skin, until it was pressed against the back of her neck. Elaine tried to keep calm even though her increased breathing was slowly betraying her, and her heart beat increased tenfold. "I think she needs a cut, and since you're being so difficult she's getting it."

"No!"

On instinct, Elaine shut her eyes, certain she would soon feel a blade stab down towards her neck or for the blade to be sunk into her skin and slowly be moved around her neck and throat in a complete circle until moving back to its original starting point. Hearing Desmond struggle, it had briefly shocked sense into her to try and pull away while she had a reasonable chance. This was met with the side of her head hitting the hard, desert earth before being tugged back up to her original position. Groaning from the pain, attempts at struggling briefly left her mind.

"This won't hurt a bit." Elaine felt it was the end. She didn't want to die, but she did her best not to show her fear. If she was going down, she want to at least have some dignity to show and not give in to whimpering, and certainly no crying.

There had been a quick, brief pain to her scalp as her hair was tugged at roughly every few seconds. It wasn't long until the beams of the warm morning sun was felt on the back of her neck when Elaine felt the side of her face hit the ground again.

"That wasn't so bad, wasn't it?" Bronev questioned before dropping something of a light brown colour to the ground in front of her. Elaine was stunned. Not horrified, not disturbed. Just stunned at seeing a good amount of her hair having been cut off, leaving her hair with a badly, uneven bob, and just dropped casually in front of her. Descole however gritted his teeth. It had all been a twisted mind game of Bronev's. Twisting words and meanings, only to instead just cut her hair none too gently. Coming out of her stunned state, Elaine glared down at her lost hair and spat,

"You're a crappy 'airdresser." Elaine spat. Bronev didn't respond though as he stepped over Elaine he did pressed down hard on the side of her waist just enough to cause her to wince and just barely suppress a small grunt.

"Why so upset, Desmond? I did say I was going to give her a cut." Bronev sounded lightly amused. "Did you think I was going to kill her? Assuming you come with us, and she still refuses that will have to be arranged."

"I'll never join you!" Desmond snapped. "I said it before and I'll say it a million times if I have to! You're nothing to me! You may as well be dead- AH!" Desmond failed to keep himself from giving a sharp cry when Bronev gave a harder kick to his stomach this time. He was coughing, trying to catch his lost breath.

"You never learn, do you?" Bronev gave a low sigh. "You really are disappointing me. And here I thought you knew better."

"You don't know me!" Another kick came to Desmond's stomach, followed by another two to his ribs. Elaine bit her lip since it was getting hard to watch Desmond suffering this abuse.

"Actually, I think I know you quite well," the older man remarked. "Arrogant. Conceited. Admitably intelligent, and reckless. A spoiled brat who needs discipline." Bronev looked away and appeared to be scanning for something. He seemed to spot it as Elaine could just about hear him mutter, "Yes. Discipline." He strolled away from them at a casual pace. Elaine looked to Desmond to try and make out how he was doing. He was grimacing a bit, and it was a bit of a wonder that he hadn't vomited from the blows to his stomach.

"Yes, I think this should do." Bronev was soon back, a rock in hand. Elaine's stomach sank and she tried to move closer to the archaeologist next to her, but the soldiers holding her down wouldn't allow it. Bronev threw the rock to one of the soldiers. He dropped the gun he was carrying to catch the rock, nearly dropping it but didn't.

"Sir?"

"Let's make it… The left ankle."

"Don't you dare 'urt 'im!"

"Someone shut her up," Bronev requested, and it was granted by one of the soldiers behind her who gave a sharp kick to her back before pressing a gun to the back of her head. Elaine's lips were trembling, either from pain or fear or both, as she saw Desmond struggle against the soldiers when they forced him onto his back. He actually looked a bit frightened himself, a look incredibly foreign to Elaine, but despite this he kept trying to fight back.

But when he was held down just enough for them, the soldier who caught the rock knelt down. Rock raised high. Seeing no escape, Desmond turned his head to the side, facing Elaine. Eyes shut tight and teeth gritted shut. Noticing his held down arms left his right hand in enough reach for Elaine, she forced her handcuffed hands out from under her chest and grabbed onto his just as the rock came down, and shut her own eyes tightly. Desmond had gripped her hand hard when he yelled out in pain. It made her cringe to listen to it, and she felt guilty for shutting her eyes. But she couldn't really bare to see something like this happen. If there was anything she could do at least, it would be to try and give Desmond some form of comfort. Little as it might be.

There had only been about two or three more yells. Elaine want to thank God this torture was shorter then it could have been.

Elaine dared to open her eyes and looked at Desmond, though she didn't dare try to see the damage done to his ankle. She only noticed now that during the brief struggle before this sick example of humanity's evil, his hat had fallen off, revealing how his brown hair that curled at the ends, was messier now. There was some perspiration on his face, and the hand Elaine held was trembling slightly. His red eyes looked directly into Elaine's blues and, not trusting his voice, mouthed out,

'Th-thank you.'

Elaine gave a small but rapid nod, squeezing Desmond's hand lightly to try and ease the trembling. It had some effect since it slowly came to near stop.

"Aw, isn't this sweet?" Elaine scowled towards Bronev. Oh, how much she wished she could just kick the damn bastard right now. "Don't scowl now, little girl. If you both behave, he can get his ankle treated at HQ."

"We're not joining!" Desmond suddenly shouted. "I'm not letting either of us join! I'll get Johanna back, and you'll pay for what you did!"

"It doesn't matter if you're joining or not. Only difference is that unless you change your mind, you'll be held prisoners." Bronev reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. Elaine felt a small wave of nausea as he held the gun towards them both. "Unless of course, you want bullet wounds through your hands?" Desmond's hold tightened and Elaine swallowed thickly.

She never expected that her interest in archaeology would lead her to such a situation. It just seemed so unlikely. So unbelievable. Yet, here they were. Elaine robbed of some of her femininity through her crudely cut hair, bruises developing on her back, waist side and possibly the side of her face. And Descole, repeatedly kicked and suffering from an injured ankle at the least. It didn't help anymore that some of this torment had been lightly psychological as well. No doubt the next dream or so would come back to this. Maybe even a more horrible version even.

But then it came. A small grey ball. It seemed almost like a sign of survival as it hit the ground and covered the area in smoke. Feeling the chain connecting her cuffs pulled sharply, Elaine found herself free from those brutes and running blindly (and slightly awkwardly) with whoever had held her chain. Even out of the smoke, she didn't bother to check who it was. It was escape. That was all that mattered.

Hiding behind one of the tanks closer to the outside of the military circle, Elaine looked to their saviour, Raymond, who seemed to become older all of a sudden and more pale as he looked over Desmond's ankle. Elaine winced as she looked at it, quickly shutting her eyes for a moment. It wasn't bleeding, thank goodness. Though it was highly bruised and beginning to look swollen.

"M-Master, I'm so sorry. I tried to get to you as fast as I could, but there were so many soldiers to avoid, I-."

"Don't… Don't apologise." Desmond had his eyes shut tight. Trying to ignore his pain but failing, showing by how every so often his eyes would scrunch up a bit. "El-Elaine, I'm going to have to lean on you until we make it to the cart. I think my ankle's dislocated."

"Of-of course!" There wasn't much argument there. Elaine and Desmond were both taller than Raymond so it would be easier for them to move if the injured man leaned against her. Desmond put an arm around Elaine and with a little help from both her and Raymond, Desmond was standing on his good foot, and the three began to walk away as quickly as they could before Bronev decided to send someone out for them.

The walk had been mostly quiet apart from the occasional grunt or groan from Desmond. Today was certainly not going to be forgotten too easily. Desmond probably would have been stuck between wanting to forget for the sake of his pride, and remembering for the sake of fuelling his ambitions.

It seemed to take forever, but they eventually made it to the cart and despite Elaine and Raymond's protests, Desmond pulled himself onto it without assistance, and while Elaine told him he didn't have to, Desmond had taken out bolt cutters from a secret compartment so the chains of Elaine's cuffs was broken at least.

"We'll go home," Desmond said calmly. "Raymond, you know who to call when we get there."

"Yes, Master."

"Shouldn't we go to a doctor or something?" Elaine giving Desmond's ankle a wary look as Raymond started the cart.

"There's a doctor not too far from home," Desmond muttered. "He knows to keep quiet and he'll take a proper look at my ankle." He looked over at Elaine and asked, "I'm guessing you're aware of who I am?"

"Professeur Desmond Sycamore," Elaine murmured. "I saw your photo in an archaeology article."

"And was it good?" Desmond asked, a tiny smirk on his face.

"It was. Even if one or two lines made you sound pretencious."

"Don't break my heart now." Desmond looked at Elaine's hair. "I suppose it would be lightly put to say you're not too pleased with your new hair cut?"

"Not anything worth crying about." Elaine muttered as she touched her hair where it was cut. "But I'm certain that it looks rather 'orrid. I'll 'ave to inspect the damage more when we do get 'ome."

"It doesn't look too bad." Desmond tilted his head to the side. "It might need a little trimming to make it more… neat. But it's not 'horrid', as you put it."

"Why are we even talking about my 'air? You're the one who was kicked repeatedly and 'ad their ankle injured."

"Perhaps, but there's nothing much to be said about me without stating the obvious." Desmond looked to his side to look at the horizon and said, "I suppose the revelation of whom my 'father' is was quite unexpected."

"It was," Elaine admitted. "I'm guessing you don't want to talk any more on the matter?"

"Not now." Desmond put a hand under her chin and tilted her head a little so he could look at the side of her face that hit the ground. "You're face doesn't look bad. It might bruise a little where it hit the ground, but I doubt you're too vain about your looks." Desmond glanced down for a moment while Elaine twitched a smile. "How's your back? One of them kicked you there, didn't they? And your side?"

"A little sore, but I'll be alright." Elaine replied. "I'm more concerned for you right now."

"I'm touched." There was a moment of silence before Desmond asked, "so, do I look like anything you expected?" Elaine cocked her head to the side as she looked at him and hummed.

"Hmm… Right 'air colour, though I was expecting blue eyes, or grey, at the least."

"I think I'll stick to red." Desmond took Elaine's hand and rubbed his thumb on the back of her wrist. "Thank you for holding my hand when they 'injured' my ankle. It might have caused a small blow to my pride, but I appreciate the gesture."

"I thought it was the least I could do." Elaine admitted, slightly sheepishly. "I'm not sure what you would have done but still."

"… If I couldn't have stopped it, I'd probably have done the same." Desmond glanced away before looking back at her. "Let's just try to get past this. Raymond will call the doctor, I'll get my ankle treated, and we'll treat your hair so it doesn't look like you had a midlife crisis and cut it yourself."

"You said it didn't look too bad!" Elaine slapped his shoulder (albeit with not too much force in case she missed and hit his chest), scowling in annoyance as Descole chuckled.

"True, but that doesn't mean I can't try to take some humour from it."

"Says the one who's 'air looks like a loaf of bread?"

"It does not look like bread!" Elaine sniggered.

"Are you sure? It looks like tasty bread to me." He groaned loudly and rubbed his face.

"Just don't try to see if it's the real thing. I'd rather not go bald while I'm still young."

"And 'ow old are you exactly?" Elaine asked with a raised brow, something Desmond returned.

"Well how old are you?"

"I don't 'ave to tell you since I'm a lady." Elaine replied with a small smirk.

"A very rude one at that."

"'EY!" Desmond gave a small chuckle and patted the top of Elaine's head.

"I'm still rather bitter about what just happened to us, but talking with you now has actually lifted my spirits up a little, my little puppy."

"Not a puppy." Elaine pouted. Desmond gave a small, playful smile and shuck his head.

"No, you are. A rather adorable one at that." Elaine thought it over for a moment. Trying to keep herself from smiling she asked,

"So if I'm the puppy, does that make you the kitten?" Rolling his eyes, Desmond shuck his head.

"No. That makes me the wolf. I'm the wolf that keeps getting annoyed by the puppy."

"I only nip back because you nip first." Elaine only got a small grunt in response before Desmond brought an arm around her shoulder a pulled her against him. He placed a kiss against her cheek.

"Then I'll nip harder then."


End file.
